Bacteria living in idli batter have formed a union and are demanding to be credited at breakfast, after what they describe as “centuries of total erasure”.
“Every night we work,” said a spokesperson, a lactic acid bacterium about one thousandth of a millimetre long, speaking from a steel vessel in a Chennai kitchen. “The rice and the urad dal go in, ground and soaked. We find the sugars. We eat. We make lactic acid, which gives the batter its sourness, and carbon dioxide, which gives it its rise. By morning, it has doubled. Then the batter is steamed, we are killed in the line of duty, and somebody’s mother gets all the compliments.”
The union, which says it represents billions of workers in every vessel, is led by a species called Leuconostoc mesenteroides. Unlike some of its relatives, which make only acid, Leuconostoc also gives off gas as it ferments, and it says this makes it “the one doing the actual lifting”. Other bacteria in the batter disputed this, saying the acid they produce is what keeps harmful microbes out of the batter overnight. Talks between the two groups are continuing.
The union also wishes to acknowledge the urad dal, which it described as “management, but useful”. When ground, the dal releases sticky, gummy carbohydrates that turn the batter thick and stretchy enough to hold bubbles in, the way gluten traps gas in bread dough. “Without the dal, our gas would just leave,” the spokesperson said. “With it, we make a sponge. Rice alone gives you a sad, flat disc. We have seen it. We do not talk about it.”
The steaming that follows was described as “traumatic, but necessary”. Heat makes the gas in each bubble expand while the starch around it swells and sets, so the pockets of gas the bacteria made are fixed into the soft, spongy structure of a finished idli. “Every hole in your idli,” said the spokesperson, “is a hole we made.”
The union’s list of demands includes warmer kitchens. Its members work best at around thirty degrees, and production slows almost to a stop in the cold. It wants an end to the phrase “the batter didn’t rise”, which it called “victim-blaming, when everyone knows it was December”. It has also asked that salt be added sparingly, since too much makes the batter a hostile workplace.
Finally, the union wants credit for what it calls “unpaid nutritional labour”. Researchers studying idli fermentation have found that it can raise the levels of some B vitamins in the batter and break down phytic acid, a substance in grains and pulses that holds on to minerals like iron and zinc and stops the body absorbing them. “We are not just making it fluffy,” the spokesperson said. “We are making it better for you. And nobody has ever said thank you.”
Asked for comment, a mother in Chennai said she had been making idlis for twenty-six years, had never once been thanked either, and would be joining the union.
Try it yourselfThe batter thermometer
- Fill each glass to the same height and put a rubber band round it to mark the level.
- Leave one glass in a warm spot in the kitchen. Put the other in the fridge.
- Next morning, compare how far each has risen above its band, and smell both.
What's going on?
The warm batter rises and smells pleasantly sour: the bacteria have been making carbon dioxide and lactic acid all night. The cold one has barely moved, because chilling slows the bacteria almost to a stop. Same batter, same microbes, different working conditions.